


A Chance Encounter

by AlexMercer125



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexMercer125/pseuds/AlexMercer125
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My spin on a young Jay Gatz and his first meeting with his soon to be mentor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chance Encounter

_**~JG~** _

It was on a listless and sunny day that James Gatz, an ambitious young fellow of seventeen, found himself loafing about on the edges of Lake Superior.

Now young Mr. Gatz wasn't there to serve any purpose, he had enough bills in his pocket to pay for food and water – and the kindly old inn keeper hadn't had any jobs for him to do (a part of their agreement regarding his boarding), so there he lay. However, while his visage exuded a measure of calmness, inside the young man was in the world of the illustrious Jay Gatsby.

Jay Gatsby, in James Gatz's mind, was a well known, well respected and most importantly of all – a well-off man, able to charm his way into anything he so desired with a quick smile and a flick of a hand holding a wallet full of cash. In this way, James Gatz was very much the Dr. Jekyll to Jay Gatsby's Mr. Hyde.

You see, dear Reader, our young Mr. Gatz was most definitely not well known, well respected, nor well-off in a shape, way, or form. This is mostly because you often needed the last item mentioned to be any of the other two items, adjectives, what have you. Something Gatz himself was very keen to pick up at a young age. (The wee age of six, if you really wish to know).

Which is why James Gatz made himself this other identity in his mind, if only to keep himself sane until he could make it a reality. He knew that one day, he _would_ embody this Jay Gatsby, because he _knew_ he was destined for great things – even if he came from a modest, _okay_ , very modest background.

So, there Gatz lay basking in the sunlight, dreaming of his _future_ when he jolted at a very strange noise. He could've sworn he heard he heard some sort of uproar, along with the tell-tale _'crank-shick'_ of a boat dropping it's anchor.

Perhaps he had managed to lull himself to sleep with his own fantasies and he had merely dreamt the noise? Startling awake because his own mind had become too competent at fulfilling his whims?

Gatz tried to persuade himself so, so that he could fall back into his visions but when the _'crank-shick'_ and the unintelligible roaring continued he found himself unable to do so, because of the burning curiosity and the simple _urge_ to look became overwhelming.

With a disgruntled groan, he heaved himself into a sitting position and with eyes shielded against the sun, gave a cursory glance in his general vicinity.

The first thing to strike him, as always was the clear blue water and the vivid evergreens that folded around it in a welcoming embrace. So different from his parents farm in dusty old North Dakota that he felt an ache go through his chest. Not from longing, no, but a sense of- he didn't know what. Anticipation of greater things to come? Possibly. Pulling himself away from those thoughts he found himself staring at something profoundly odd.

A sleek, white yacht was in the middle of dropping anchor, in a _NOT_ so clever spot mind you, while the robust figure of an older looking man waved his arms in the air while shouting aimlessly at everything he was facing. The various trees, rocks, and even the water itself was not exempt from this man's blustering insults.

Now, this wasn't what necessarily bothered our protagonist, the knowledge, however that the man's ship would, within the hour, be smashed against the cliff sides on the right edge of the small bay, did.

Thinking quickly, Gatz decided that; no he could not just simply ignore the man's obvious perilous situation. Standing awkwardly on the smooth rocks that made up the lake's shoreline (he tried not to wear his shoes to often so as to not wear them out, thus the pain he was feeling now) he made his way to his own borrowed row boat (for clam digging), climbed in, and began the arduous task of rowing himself toward the sleek vessel that so shamed his own.

_**~JG~** _

Finally, after cursing every wave that crashed into him, every UV ray that shined on him, and every rich elderly person that got themselves into a ridiculous situation, James Gatz finally found himself within 25 feet of the yacht. Up close he came to understand that the unintelligible screaming he heard was in fact, the raucous slurring shouts of a drunk and that the aforementioned drunk, was indeed very rich. Every smooth line and curve of the yacht practically glistened in the sun, almost blinding him as he drifted ever closer.

Now the Old Man who most likely commanded the boat painted a harsh contrast to the pureness of ship as our young Mr. Gatz finally laid his own eyes upon him. His first impression had, indeed, been correct, the Old Man was robust, made up of hard lines and angles. He held none of the fragility of the elderly, yet one could tell that the man had walked the Earth for many years.

"What are you looking at down there?"

Startled, Gatz blinked and realized that he had been staring blankly up at the man, lost in his own observations. (This was not something that hadn't happened before). Recovering quickly, he shot a quick smile and replied with a polite, "Pardon me, Sir?"

The man merely stared before stating, quite harshly, "Just come aboard then" and disappeared further with the ship.

_**~JG~** _

When Gatz finally managed to find a little nub to tie his boat to, and a ladder to climb aboard much of his time had passed already passed. Getting a little anxious when he saw that there was no trace of the Old Man above deck, Gatz quickly made his way into the cabin where he found the man sitting there nursing a cup of coffee.

"Took you long enough, didn't it Old Sport?" The man said as he breathed in the smell of his coffee. "Thought I would sober up a little bit before I tried to be any sort of polite company. Would you like some?" This polite, almost addled man was so different from the man he had seen before, Gatz couldn't help but wonder if, for all the youthful energy of the man's body he had indeed gone senile.

"Uh, Sir-"

"Name's Dan Cody, Old Sport."

"Mr. Dan Cody sir, your boat-"

"Fine vessel, isn't she?" Cody smiled proudly, oblivious to our Hero's mounting anxiety, "You know, I might be in the business for a crew mate, sometimes I have a hard time getting along on here all by myself and-"

"Sir! You and your yacht are about to be smashed against the cliff side! That is why I came aboard!" Forgetting to be sophisticated, or at least forgetting to project the air of a sophisticated man, he pointed out past the deck and to the cliff side that had indeed come closer to the side of the ship. He knew from experience the rocking of the waves, however, were what they had to worry about.

"Well why didn't you say so, Old Sport?" Leaping to his feet, the effects of alcohol seemingly no longer in his system, he slapped his large hand down on Gatz's shoulder. "Why don't you show me what you got when it comes to boats, and perhaps I could find a position for you." Cody winked at Gatz slyly before walking out onto the deck and with a flourished wave sat down on one of the cushioned seats.

The relief that young Mr. Gatz had begun feeling when the old man had finally listened popped like a balloon at the prospect of having to steer the boat out of harms way himself, his own pride wouldn't let him walk away, the prospect of a job was also something he couldn't ignore. Yet, the sense of dread was almost overshadowed by a sense of oncoming change, as if what he was about to do would change the whole course of his life, for the better.

So, he straightened his torn jersey, cleared his throat, and walked out on deck as confidently as he could.

_**~JG~** _

**Author's Note:**

> A short story I wrote for my English class, thought I might as well post it here to see how ya'll might like it. Any criticism or praise is extremely welcome. Thanks for reading!


End file.
